Behold
by the ramblin rose
Summary: He didn't want to lose her, not after finding her and finding his voice for his feelings. She didn't want to go. Neither of them expected the way that their lives would go. Post Season 4 One shot (my first one shot). Caryl.


**AN: So here's a little one shot (my first one shot ever). It was started through one of those random conversations with liveinadive and this is my version of where my mind went with it. **

**I hope you enjoy! Let me know what you think! **

111111111111111111111111111111111111111111111111

She was dying. She knew it. It had to be that. And really she didn't mind the idea of dying so much in itself, but she was almost horrified that after everything that they'd been through, after everything that she'd been through, she was going to die on the cold concrete of a parking garage office space from something she couldn't even identify beyond believing it might be some manifestation of the super flu that had swept through the prison.

And maybe she deserved it. Maybe the waves of pain tearing through her body were her payment for what she had done. Maybe dying like this was the last slap in the face that life had for her.

Whatever the reason, though, she knew she was dying. It was getting worse, to the point that she'd given up the hope that it might pass.

Even in the fog of her own suffering, Carol worried about the man with her, though. She had moved to the point of accepting what was coming, what was growing closer with every passing moment, but he had moved to the point of begging and pleading with her and any divine power that might be there and might be willing to listen to him.

"Please," he begged, kneeling beside the pallet he'd made for her to try to make this as comfortable as it could be. "Please…Carol. You gotta hang in there. You gotta hang in there an' this is gonna pass. You gotta just hang in there."

Carol reached for him with the arm that she could move away from clutching herself as another wave of pain ripped through her. He took her hand and rubbed her arm with all the urgency of someone who had nothing that they could do in a situation but was desperate to find something to do.

She forced the best smile that her exhausted body could muster at the moment. She had so much she wanted to say to him right now, but none of that was going to come out. She didn't have the energy to say it and he didn't want to hear it.

He didn't want to hear about how she'd begun to believe that she couldn't be loved…that she wasn't worthy of it even if someone wanted to give it to her. He didn't want to hear that he'd been the one to change that for her and that the time that they'd shared together was some of the most precious in her life. He didn't want to hear how much she loved him and how she was glad that, at least if she was going to die in some horrible manner, she was glad that she was going to do it with him by her side. He didn't want to hear any of that and it was for the better because she couldn't put the energy or the breath into saying it in a way that would have gotten her point across.

"You need…" She stopped to breathe through her pain. "You need to pack the camp. You need to get ready. You're not going to want to stay for this."

Daryl, his face damp with tears that he wasn't even trying to stop at the moment nearly broke her hand. He shook his head and growled at her through gritted teeth.

"I ain't leavin' without you," he said. "Not anymore…so we're just gonna wait 'til you get over this an' we're gettin' the hell outta this. Don't you try an' opt out on me 'cause I ain't lettin' it happen."

Carol shook her head slightly.

"I'm so sorry," she said. "I can't stop it and you can't either…I love you. You need to pack up. You'll be OK. Find the group…"

He shook his head at her and she sighed, dropping back and giving into the next round of pain that slammed into her. She tried not to scream out, not wanting to bring any more Walkers into his general area than might already be headed for them.

11111111111111111111111111111111111111

Daryl knew that Carol was growing worse, or rather the most practical side of himself knew it. The more emotional side of him didn't want to believe it. She could live through this. She'd live through this. She'd lived through so many things before. This wouldn't be any different.

And she couldn't leave him, not when he'd finally found her again and not when he'd finally manned up and admitted how much he loved her…how much he needed her. He was selfish, perhaps, but he wasn't ready to let her go. He wasn't ready to be without her.

He had decided, the moment he'd seen her just after their escape from that boxcar, that he wouldn't ever be without her again. He'd meant it, too, when he'd taken her in his arms and declared to her that he loved her. He loved her and he was sorry for all the times that he'd made her promise never to let anyone else know how much he loved her…how often he came to her when everyone else was asleep except the two of them…before. He was never letting her go again.

But now it seemed that God or whoever was in charge of such things was laughing at his declarations. They were laughing at him for having walked when Rick, happy to take his baby back from Carol's arms, had told her that he stood by what he'd said. He didn't want her with the group. She was a murderer, she couldn't be trusted, and she had to leave. Daryl had gone with her, his final words to the man he'd seen as a brother for some time being that he was out. If she went, he went. He wasn't losing her again.

Except now it might be out of his control entirely.

In the months they'd been alone it had been a struggle for survival in many ways. They'd been constantly on the run against Walkers and people alike. But they were making it and they had each other. Every night he got to fall asleep in her arms. Every day he got to walk by her side and spend the precious moments of quiet that they got with her there with him.

She'd been happier than he remembered her ever being in the time that he'd known her. She'd been stronger, proving herself to be as prepared for this world as anyone, even more so than himself sometimes.

And he had enjoyed watching her grow and blossom like she was. He'd enjoyed watching her think about him and about herself, no longer throwing herself over for the "good of the group".

He should be happy for the time they had. Wasn't that what the old adage said? He should be happy for the time that they had together. But that wasn't what it really was like. The time they had together didn't quench any kind of thirst for Daryl. It had only made his desire worse to spend time with her. He wanted more…he wanted time with her like he wanted oxygen.

But at the moment he also wanted to see her stop hurting.

He didn't understand what had brought this on. He'd eaten the same things she'd eaten. He'd drank the same water she'd drank. Nothing had been different for her than it had been for him.

Yet she'd been the one who'd started complaining the day before of stomach cramps. At first they had been something she'd easily excused. She'd declared it was nothing more than something small that would pass.

But it hadn't passed.

And as it had grown worse, she'd insisted on packing the camp as though they were going anywhere when she could barely stand upright for more than half an hour. And then it had simply gotten worse and worse until it was bad enough that she'd thrown up on herself and on Daryl and soiled herself, crying over her own embarrassment even through the pain. That had been when Daryl knew that this was something that wasn't simply blowing over.

But he wasn't ready to accept that. He wasn't ready at all to accept it and he was simply not going to accept it. Not until he had to.

111111111111111111111111111111111111111111111111

Carol gave into crying when she thought that she couldn't stand it anymore. Daryl had questioned her the day before. Was it the water? Was it food? What had she done that he hadn't done? She didn't have an answer. They'd done everything together. They'd done everything the same.

And she'd begged him, finally, to just go ahead and end it for her. She'd begged him to let her go and do for her what she'd tried to do for others…to end the suffering. It had to be a virus. It had to be…there wasn't any other explanation for it. It would take her eventually, but it was wringing out all that it could out of her.

He had refused, though. He was going to hold onto her, desperately, until the end.

She cried out as the pain intensified, her hand shaking in his. She tried to close her eyes and go to her happy place. She tried to tell herself that she was fine with dying now that it was here. She reminded herself that she was going to see her parents. She was going to hold Sophia in her arms again and her arms ached at the thought of it. She tried to remind herself that this was the end of suffering, but it was the beginning of something better if God could see fit to forgive her for all she'd done…and she had to believe that he would.

She focused her mind as best she could to think about Sophia and her sweet face…not the way she'd looked the last time she'd seen her…but the way she'd looked on the happy days that they'd spent together. The special days when Ed was gone away on business, or whatever he'd gone to do, and they were allowed to be happy together.

Another pain burned through Carol and she felt a sensation, an impulse almost, that she'd felt before. She felt the sensation of need to gather up her muscle strength and push against the pressure she felt building in her body.

And her eyes went wide.

"Daryl…Daryl!" She said suddenly.

He looked at her like he was terrified.

"I need you to help me," Carol said.

He shook his head at her.

"I won't do it," he said. "I can't…an' I won't."

"No," Carol growled at him. "My pants…can you get my pants off? Please? Help me…"

Daryl looked at her like she was crazy now and she accepted it. She felt crazy. She was pretty sure that if she'd been in his position she might think the same thing. But he moved to action without question and helped peel her out of her wet and disgusting pants.

"My panties too," she panted.

Without question he helped her with that too and she tensed against the pressure and the uncontrollable feeling that had washed over her before. She was trapped in a strange state of disbelief and she almost wondered if it was some kind of trick her body was playing on her…or her mind. Maybe it was some kind of last effort her mind was making to respond to the fear of death by replacing what she already thought she knew was happening with something else.

Because there hadn't been any indication. There was nothing to verify what she was thinking. There was no evidence.

Or none that she had paid attention to at all.

Though at the moment her mind was slamming her, even in its current condition, with a laundry list of all the things that she'd explained away for so long. All the things that she'd decided were because of something else.

Carol reached her hand down, feeling herself, not even knowing what she was searching for.

"What the hell is goin' on?" Daryl asked suddenly, the curiosity of the moment slapping him out of his morbid state.

Carol felt something and curled up and into the pain that washed over her, clutching for Daryl. He grabbed at her and she cried out, turning her face into him.

"Daryl…I'm not dying," she panted. "I'm not dying…I'm not…"

"You're not dying," he repeated back. "You're gonna get over this. It's gonna pass an' we goin' on."

He sounded joyful that she was agreeing with the bargaining side of him.

"Oh…it hurts…it hurts…" She cried, tensing against him. She couldn't explain to him at the moment what was happening and what was going through her mind. She couldn't find the words and she couldn't find the air to get them out if they were there.

"I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. If I could take it, I would," Daryl told her. "I'd switch places with you…"

"You did it!" Carol screamed at him. "You did it!"

"What?" He responded. "How the hell did I do this? I didn't give you the damn swine flu! I wouldn't do that!"

Carol growled and gave into her desire to fight against the pressure, crying out at the end of it and digging her fingers into his arm where they could find something to hold onto.

"You didn't give me the flu," she spat at him when she could breathe again. "But you did knock me up…you dick…"

111111111111111111111111111111111111111111111111

Daryl wasn't even sure what kind of turn this whole thing had taken but Carol had dissolved into a fit of spitting accusations and curses at him that he had never expected to hear fall out of her mouth. She was much softer spoken than anyone that he'd never known but now she was vomiting a string of profanity at him that would have made Merle proud.

"Shit…shit…" she cried out.

"What is going on?!" Daryl yelled out finally in his frustration, clinging to her against what he was starting to think was his first experience with possession.

"Get this baby out of me! You put it in! You get it out!" Carol screamed at him.

"Baby?" He asked.

He got screaming and tears in response but he moved between her legs to see if there was any sense to what she was saying or if she was simply going insane and this was the last stage of whatever it was that had been trying to kill her for a day and a half.

And he nearly fainted when he realized what he was looking at. He'd never seen a woman give birth before, but he could easily identify that there was indeed a head trying its best to burst out of Carol. Her screams and protests coming even as it moved a little more.

"You're havin' a baby…you're havin' a baby…how?" Daryl said, barely hearing his own words.

"How the hell do you think?" Carol spat back. She gave up the effort she was putting into this for a moment. "I'm sorry…I'm sorry…"

"OK, don't cry," he said. "That ain't gettin' it nowhere, but I don't know how ta get it out."

Carol sat forward again, screaming out at him, the sounds almost rendering him death in the small enclosed space they were in, surrounded by concrete. But it moved more.

"Keep doin' that," Daryl said. "Hate me if you gotta. Scream at me. Tell me I'm a son of a bitch."

He chuckled.

"I'm all a' that…but hell…you're havin' a baby," Daryl said, feeling a little lightheaded at the whole thing.

"I know what I'm doing!" Carol spat. "Now! I can't…I can't do this…I can't…I have to stop."

And she dropped back again like she meant it. She dropped back like she was simply done. She just wasn't going any farther than this. Daryl put his hands on her knees to keep them apart, not wanting to break it to her that at this point she couldn't close them because there was something in the way.

"I don't think you can stop now," Daryl said. "Hell…I think if you try ta get up gravity might just get it the rest a' the way out."

She growled and sat up, crying out again. But she was putting the effort into it again and the thing was moving. Daryl reached his hand down and took a chance, causing her to spit at him again, pushing back on parts of her body that he'd never imagined touching like this to try to free more of the thing from the prison of her body than just her efforts were doing.

She cried out at him again but she put more effort into her work and suddenly the head was out. There was a whole head out.

"It's got a head," he said, not meaning it to come out like it had.

In her demon possession, Carol latched onto the statement.

"Fuck! I hope it's got a head Daryl! Damn it!" She spat at him.

Daryl bit back laughter. She was suffering, but he was feeling much better about this now that he knew all his promises that she'd get through this were true. She was going to get through this. He was going to get her through it, no matter how much she yelled at him for it, and on top of that it looked like they were going to have someone else along the way with them…though it hadn't fully sunk in for him yet.

"Yeah," he responded back, wondering if he could spur her on since she pushed better when she was angry, "it's got a head, but how about you prove ta me there's somethin' else in there? Stop whinin' about it an' push!"

Carol responded to him with some more words that rolled off him now and he laughed because it worked and she laid into the next round of effort enough that he could get his hands around it. One more protest from her, one more round of insults, and the baby flopped into his hands.

Carol dropped back and Daryl grabbed the closest thing he could find, a shirt, to wrap the thing in, trying to gently beat its back enough to get it to do something.

"Alive?" Carol panted. "Is it alive? Please…is it alive?"

And when the tiny baby sucked in a breath and offered a coughing wail, Daryl yipped without thinking of it. He looked at her while she struggled to look at him against her exhaustion.

"It's alive," Daryl said. "We got us a boy an' he's alive!"

Carol started crying and reached toward him so he crawled around her legs and offered her the baby. She immediately unwrapped it from the shirt he'd put it in, searching it for something and looking at it with disbelief.

And then another bout of tears followed, but the possession seemed to be over. She wasn't screaming at him anymore.

Daryl gathered her up and moved to support her, looking over her at the son that he'd never even known he was expecting…the son that she'd never known they were expecting.

But for all the lack of care and for all the abuse her body had apparently suffered while secretly harboring this little fugitive, the baby looked healthy.

"He's alive," Carol said. "He's alive. Perfect and alive. Daryl, he's alive. I'm so sorry I said those horrible things…I love you…I'm so sorry."

Daryl chuckled and kissed the side of her face.

"He's alive," he echoed. "An' I don't even remember nothin' you said except that you love me. I love you too. But, Carol, how did it even happen? How'd we not know?"

"I guess we just weren't paying attention," Carol said. "Daryl, he's beautiful."

"He is," Daryl said. "What we gonna call him?"

"What do you want?" Carol asked.

Daryl scanned through his mind. He'd been fascinated for a spell over names. He'd found a book about names and entertained himself reading it when they'd been in the prison and analyzing the names of everyone there. He'd liked finding out what they meant, believing that they always held some kind of meaning, even accidental. He knew that his name meant something like a grove of trees, and he loved the woods. He knew that Carol was a simple one…a happy song…and she'd been the happiest thing that had ever happened to him.

And he remembered one that he'd seen because he'd found it interesting because he'd wondered when it would ever be suiting. It was surely suiting now. He smiled to himself.

"Rueben," he said.

"What?" Carol asked.

He laughed to himself.

"Rueben," he repeated. "Rueben Dixon. Means behold we have a son."

Carol laughed to herself and trailed a finger affectionately on the tiny baby's face.

"Rueben," she said. "We have a son. Do you realize how lucky we are? That he's OK? That he's alive? When we didn't even know about him?"

Daryl sucked in a breath and silently apologized for the anger he'd thrown at any diety he'd thought of when he believed he was losing Carol. He wasn't losing her at all. He'd begged for her suffering to end, but now he knew that her suffering wasn't about loss, it was about gaining so much.

"We are lucky," Daryl said. "We have a son…an' I still got you."


End file.
